


Embrocation

by bravenclawesome



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Erections, Innuendo, Lube, M/M, Massage, Massage to Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Prostate Massage, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing a Bed, literally porn, massage that leads to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravenclawesome/pseuds/bravenclawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>embrocation (noun): a liquid used for rubbing on the body to relieve pain from sprains and strains.</p><p>Arthur requests for a massage after his evening bath, and Merlin is hesitant to comply at first. Features Arthur blatantly showing off his gorgeous physique and totally inappropriate erections on Merlin's part. But it all works out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrocation

_Splash._ Merlin gave a loud groan from where he was stoking the fire as Arthur got into his bathtub. Water slopped over the edge and made a large pool on the floor, spreading to the carpet by the table and making its crimson colour darken from the dampness. “Arthur, did you really have to do that? Please don’t tell me I have to clean the floor again.”

Arthur, like the utter prat he was, merely twisted around and shrugged at him. “If you hadn’t scrubbed the floor before I got into the bath, you wouldn’t have had to clean it twice. Therefore, this is entirely your problem.” As if to make his point, Arthur got in the rest of the way and sat down with so much force that at least a gallon’s worth of water sloshed over the sides.

Merlin swore under his breath, and got up to retrieve a rag and bucket from Gaius’ chambers. Arthur called after him as he left, but Merlin just slammed the door of his chambers to shut out the noise. The resulting bang was a lot louder than he had intended it to be, and he quickly reinforced the hinges with a hastily muttered spell in case it collapsed. If this had been any other room, he was sure the guards would have come running to see what the commotion was about, but as everyone was used to Merlin and Arthur squabbling with each other on a daily basis, the sound of Arthur’s chamber doors slamming came as no surprise to them anymore.

On his way back, he passed Sir Gwaine on the stairs, who took one look at the tattered cloth and bucket in his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Has there been a flood of some sort?” he asked, glancing out the nearest stained glass window. “I don’t see any rain.”

“Arthur’s taking a bath,” Merlin said exasperatedly, by way of explanation.

Gwaine let out a short laugh that sounded more like a bark. “Ha! I see. Well, old friend, while you were cleaning up after our favourite _princess_ – ” the edge of his lip quirked up, and Merlin couldn’t help but smile in response, “ – I was charming dear old Tess in the kitchens so she’d let me taste her lovely dumplings.”

Merlin was about to ask whether he was supposed to take ‘dumplings’ literally, or as a euphemism for something else (after all, with a friend like Gwaine, one could never assume), but before his mind could wander any further, Gwaine’s hand appeared from where it had previously been behind his back to reveal that he was holding what was indeed a real, edible dumpling. “I managed to get an extra one after I had my fill, of course,” he said, smirking roguishly.

Merlin couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “Why, thank you, Gwaine,” he said, transferring the bucket to his other hand and dumping the rag into it, so he could free his right hand to take the bun from him. He held it to his face and sniffed. Almost immediately, he felt his knees give way slightly from the tantalising smells that consumed his senses, and he let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, meaning every word, and bit into the dumpling with a hum of pleasure.

“No worries,” Gwaine said, a fond half-smile on his lips as he watched Merlin eat. “Just thought you must be hungry, what with you running after Arthur all day." 

“I don’t run after him, he just keep purposefully dropping things for me to clean up,” Merlin said, though he wasn’t quite sure if Gwaine had understood, as he had stuffed his mouth full and had mumbled most of his words as a result.

“Yes, we all know he’s a right arse, and that’s why we love him,” said Gwaine, shrugging. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin. I’m off to the tavern.” He clapped him on the shoulder, winking. “I’d invite you along, but I see you’re occupied.”

Merlin made to reply, but just then he bit down on a chunk of dumpling that brought forth a burst of flavour, as an entire spoonful of soup promptly exploded into his mouth. He closed it abruptly before the soup could spill out and embarrass him, or worse, spill on his neckerchief (it was already tattered and frayed from the many times he had had to wash it after visiting the stables, and he was quite partial to the red he was currently wearing over blue). Gwaine looked like he was going to laugh again, so Merlin covered his dumpling-stuffed mouth with the back of his hand, and fluttered his fingers in what he hoped was a passable ‘have fun at the tavern, sorry I can’t come, perhaps another time’. Gwaine waved back, before turning to saunter down the corridor with his usual inexhaustible swagger.

Wiping away a drop of soup that had dribbled down his chin with the back of his hand, Merlin made the rest of his way up the stairs, trying to finish his dumpling before he got to Arthur’s chambers. He was in the midst of swallowing the last bite just as he opened the door, and had already stepped into the room when he was suddenly greeted with the view of Arthur drying his hair with a cloth.

A dripping, very _naked_ Arthur drying his hair with a cloth.

Merlin choked on his last bite of dumpling. He averted his eyes and closed the door behind him, but looking away did nothing to solve the problem that was currently lodged in his throat mid-swallow. Under normal circumstances, Merlin would have cast an anti-asphyxiation spell on himself (which he had read about in one of Gaius’ books on how to cure asthma attacks, the effect being the relaxation of the trachea muscles), but this time he was not in the safety of his own rooms, where he was allowed to practice magic without the risk of execution on the spot. However, this time, Arthur was facing him, and Merlin most certainly did not have a death wish.

After a few seconds of Merlin’s garbled attempts at forming words, Arthur realised what the problem was and strode forward, pounding him hard on the back.

The food dislodged itself and Merlin swallowed, then he doubled over, alternating between attempts to catch his breath and recover the wind that Arthur had knocked out of his lungs, and coughing extremely loudly. It wasn’t that Merlin hadn’t seen Arthur without his clothes before – heck, he saw Arthur shirtless at least four times a day – but to have him so abruptly presented to him out of the blue, looking the way he did, was a shock, to say the least.

And as if that wasn’t enough, when Merlin’s breathing had returned to normal, he realised that Arthur was still naked. And with Merlin bent over, his face was in very close proximity to Arthur’s crotch.

Merlin felt his eyes widen and he straightened immediately, reverting to being at eye level with Arthur – technically, he was slightly taller, but never mind that –and trying to will away totally distracting and completely unnecessary thoughts that were forming in his mind. “Er – thanks for the…help?” he said, gesturing to his throat.

He must have looked flushed, because Arthur started grinning at him, as if he knew exactly what Merlin was thinking, and now _that_ was something which unnerved him even more than before. “There’s no need to look like a blushing maiden, _Mer_ lin. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”

Merlin closed his eyes and turned away, swinging the bucket in his hand in an effort of nonchalance rather than total embarrassment. “I’m just going to mop up the mess you made around your bath. Would you like to get dressed in the meantime, sire?”

To his surprise, Arthur said, “Not just yet.”

The tone in which he said those three words sounded like Arthur had something else to say, so Merlin waited for the follow-up. After a pause, Arthur added, “I was wondering if you could give me a massage, actually.”

Merlin’s eyes shot open, and he almost dropped the rag. “What?!” he spluttered.

“A massage,” Arthur said, and confirming that Merlin had indeed not heard him wrong the first time. “You see, Merlin, when a knight has done a lot of training, their muscles usually hurt a lot, especially when said training has been particularly rigorous on that day. Therefore, I require a massage to prevent the pain from worsening or hindering my ability when I resume training the next morning.” Arthur spoke slowly, as if explaining a foreign concept to a small child.

Merlin would have been annoyed if he weren’t already used to the way their conversations flowed these days, so all he felt now was a mild irritation. He opened his mouth, meaning to talk back like he usually did, but Arthur wasn’t finished. “Gaius used to do it for me, but I’ve heard his back isn’t quite as good as it used to be these days, and I can’t be bothered to go all the way to his chambers, so I won’t ask him.” Arthur paused, then smirked before he went on. “I also possess enough intelligence to know that it would not be a good idea to ask the chambermaids to help, because they’d most likely faint from the notion of having so much of my skin on display."

Merlin couldn’t help himself this time, and snorted. “Run away screaming, more like.” He turned away and got on his knees to mop the pool around the bathtub, and swept the rag over the floor, allowing it to soak up the water before wringing it out into the bucket.

He didn’t notice that Arthur had approached him until he was cuffed on the head. Merlin narrowly avoided having his forehead slam into the edge of the tub, but let out a wince of pain from the almost-injury nonetheless. “You’re digressing from the main point, _Mer_ lin,” he heard Arthur say.

“Glad to know I’m your last resort for a massage,” Merlin retorted, turning his head to look at him.

Arthur chuckled softly, but then his brow furrowed. “You _do_ know how to give massages, do you? I just assumed, since you live with Gaius and all.”

Merlin bit his lip. “I do know how…sort of,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “I used to massage my mum’s back after a days’ farming. Gaius taught me a little as well; I help him see to his arthritic patients sometimes. I’m not expert, but – ”

“That’s all right,” Arthur said, and Merlin looked up to see Arthur smiling down at him, an expression of something close to relief on his face, as well as something else Merlin couldn’t identify. Before he could put a finger on what Arthur’s face was trying to convey, the look disappeared and was quickly replaced by the usual arrogant confidence Merlin was used to. “Let’s see how competent you are, then.”

Before Merlin could protest, Arthur had gone over to his bed and flopped down onto the sheets, face down. “There’s some oil in the drawer over there,” he said, his arm pointing lazily towards the bedside table.

Merlin crawled forward on his hands and knees to soak up the last evidence of water spillage, which Arthur had obviously forgotten about already. “Why don’t you go and fetch it yourself?”

Arthur turned his face to look at Merlin incredulously, so that his left cheek was lying on the pillow. As a result, his eye looked mildly deformed from the way his cheek was squished into it, and the overall image was very comical. “Are you going deaf, Merlin? I said my muscles are hurting; there _fore_ , I cannot move around without causing severe pain to my limbs.” As Merlin watched, Arthur mashed his face into one of the pillows once more. “And I’m _much_ too comfortable right now,” he continued, voice muffled.

Merlin rolled his eyes and glanced at the tub, then decided that he would empty it later. He went to the drawer Arthur had mentioned and opened it. Within lay an assortment of bottles and vials of varying shapes, sizes and colours. Merlin momentarily wondered why there were so many, before concluding that it was probably an extension of Gaius’ medicine bag for the physician’s convenience, as Arthur got injured so frequently and constantly needed medical attention for something or other. He picked up the largest bottle he could find, a bottle of clear, slightly viscous liquid, and after sloshing the contents of it around for a bit, he concluded that it was the oil Arthur had been talking about. Curiously enough, it didn’t have a label, unlike the many bottles Gaius had stocked on his shelves back in his chambers. Merlin realised belatedly that he had never given a massage using oil before; back when he used to massage his mother after a hard days’ work, she had never asked him for anything other than a good, hard kneading of her neck and shoulders. 

“Stop floundering and get over here,” said Arthur, snapping him out of his reverie. “My muscles aren’t going to relax themselves.”

Merlin closed the drawer and glanced over at Arthur, who was still lying on his stomach with his face in the pillow. Merlin had never been able to understand how people like Arthur slept on their fronts with their limbs spread-eagled in the shape akin to that of a star; he had tried it once, back in his own rooms, but had found it impossible to breathe, and preferred to curl up on his side like he always did.

His gaze wandered over to Arthur’s muscled thighs (and, fleetingly, of what lay between them) without meaning to, and he blushed, thankful that Arthur wasn’t looking at him. “Er…should I fetch a cloth for you, sire?” 

Arthur did turn his face to look at him this time, expression thoroughly nonplussed. “What on earth for?”

Merlin was about to reply with ‘to cover your royally fat arse’, but then he noticed Arthur was smirking at him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, fine,” he said, striding over to him. “Let the record show, Arthur, that you have not a shred of modesty in you whatsoever.” Under his breath, he carried on, “Sometimes I think you enjoy having me see you naked.”

Arthur laughed, and Merlin realised that he hadn’t spoken as quietly as he had intended to after all. “I don’t think you realise how much of a privilege this is,” he said conversationally. “Most of the people in this kingdom would be on their hands and knees begging to serve me without my clothes on.”

Merlin was suddenly assaulted with an image of himself on his knees in front of Arthur, and a burst of heat flushed his cheeks. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

Arthur just smirked at him again, and Merlin felt a sense of trepidation that he knew exactly what he was thinking. “Get on with it, then.”

Merlin uncorked the bottle with a _pop_ , and tipped the contents into his palm. He felt a slight sense of dread as he watched the oil slowly dribble out, hoping that for once, his body would learn to control itself around Arthur and not, for lack of a more polite term, misbehave. Once it had filled half his palm, he set the bottle on the table and began to spread the oil over Arthur’s back. “Where does it hurt?” he asked, trying not to notice the way Arthur’s muscles rippled beneath his hands as his hands roamed over them.

“Everywhere: my arms, my shoulders, my back – ” Arthur twisted his neck around to look at Merlin. “I don’t see the point of telling you this, really. Gaius always did my whole body.”

“Once again, Arthur, I am not a physician, let alone a masseuse. I’ll try my best, but I warn you that I’ll probably be improvising half the time, so it would probably be best if you – ”

“Oh, just shut up, Merlin. You’re better than nothing, so it’ll just have to do.”

Merlin gritted his teeth and moved his hands to the top of Arthur’s spine, just below the nape of his neck. He’d seen Gaius massage people suffering from back pain, and he was frequently called in to help whenever Gaius tired, so he figured this wouldn’t be too different. He pressed his thumbs to either side of the bone and slowly worked his way downwards. The angle was awkward, since he was standing on the left side of the bed, but if Merlin leaned over slightly it was just comfortable enough. Arthur was completely silent while he did this, until he reached a spot lower down, whereupon the prince gave a yelp of pain that made Merlin jump violently. “OUCH! You could be more careful there!”

“Your blood isn’t circulating properly on your lower back, Arthur, I’ll have to massage it so the knots come out – ”

“I don’t care about why it hurts, just make it bloody stop!”

“All right, all right!” Merlin worked at the knot, loosening the muscles around it before getting to the pressure point. After about five minutes of careful work, Arthur didn’t even wince when Merlin pressed down on the same place. “How does it feel now?”

“Better,” said Arthur, and Merlin could tell that Arthur was trying to hide the surprise in his tone.

“Admit it, you utter sod. I’m not completely useless,” said Merlin, unable to conceal the smugness in his voice as he moved to the top half of Arthur’s spine again, then his shoulders, kneading the muscles there with his palm.

“You know I only meant that in jest,” said Arthur. Merlin’s left hand continued to rub at Arthur’s shoulder while his right went to Arthur’s neck. “All right, I admit you’re not bad at this at – _aah!_ ” Merlin pressed down hard, and Arthur let out a groan of pleasure. “Do that – _ngh –_ again.”

“As you wish, sire,” said Merlin, now with his hands on either of Arthur’s shoulders, grasping them in his hands and squeezing. That elicited another groan out of Arthur, and his back arched off the bed a little, giving Merlin a clear view of the rounded swell of his arse. Merlin closed his eyes and tried to make the image disappear from his mind, but the more he told himself not to think about it, the more starkly it appeared before his eyes. All of a sudden, Merlin found that his breeches were much too tight.

 _Oh no, please, not now, any time but now._ Merlin tried to breathe normally and attempted to will down his erection, which was already at half-mast, but to no avail. It didn’t help that Arthur decided right then to moan in such a way that, out of context, sounded absolutely filthy. Not that there was much context to talk about, what with the fact that Arthur was literally spread out naked on the bed before him.

_Arthur was literally spread out naked on the bed before him._

Fuck, Merlin was definitely hard now.

“I’m just going to – ” he stopped working at Arthur’s shoulders and hurriedly turned away from him. He almost tripped as he went to get the cloth Arthur normally used to dry himself after his baths. He frantically ran through a list of all the spells he knew while he fetched it, but could not find one that could force down an erection without the threat of permanent impotence. It was true that Merlin was desperate, but even he wouldn’t go _that_ far.

Holding the cloth in front of him in an effort to hide his excited state, he walked back over to the foot of Arthur’s bed and draped the cloth over Arthur’s arse and thighs. There was his distraction eliminated.

Merlin then realised the dilemma he was in. If he walked back to the side of Arthur’s bed to continue to massage him, Arthur would no doubt see the tent in his breeches. But if he stalled any longer, Arthur would get up, and the same result would occur.

There was only one solution. It wasn’t one of Merlin’s better ideas, but it would suffice.

Just as Arthur asked, “Merlin?” as if wondering where he had disappeared off to, Merlin toed off his boots, clambered onto the bed, swung a leg over Arthur’s back, straddled Arthur’s thighs, and continued to massage him as if nothing had happened, as if he wasn’t now sitting right on top of Arthur with his erection jutting towards his arse _._ He took comfort in the fact that at least Arthur couldn’t see his hard-on now, and anyway, Arthur was unlikely to be able to feel it with the cloth and Merlin’s breeches separating…separating Merlin’s rigidly hard cock, and Arthur’s arse.

 _Don’t think about it._ Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and continued to work at Arthur’s shoulders while trying to think of really horrible things, like Grunhilda and Gaius kissing, the image complete with Grunhilda’s horrifically long purple tongue snaking its way into Gaius’ open mouth, or Agravaine masturbating, or Uther naked with nothing but his crown on.

“Merlin, _what_ in the name of heaven do you think you’re doing?”

Merlin froze. He opened his eyes, trying to think up an excuse for the state of his breeches, but was met with the image of Arthur’s golden head in profile, glowing softly in the light from the fireplace while the flickering flames cast shadows on the muscles of his back. He was momentarily dumbstruck, then remembered himself. “Giving you a m-massage,” he replied, barely hiding a faint stammer. “Like you asked.” He held back a sigh of relief that Arthur couldn’t see him (and his breeches) from this angle.

“Yes, I noticed _that_ ,” said Arthur. “What I’m asking is why you found it appropriate to – well, to sit on me.”

_Think, Merlin, think!_

“So I can reach better,” Merlin said quickly. In an effort to distract himself from the glorious sight of the muscles on Arthur’s back, he began to massage Arthur’s arms, which, on second thought, was not much of an improvement. “See, from this angle, I don’t have to go to the other side of the bed to massage your other side. I can access both of your arms better; if I did your left side and neglected the other until later, you’d feel unbalanced, because only your left arm would be relaxed. It doesn’t make much difference to you anyway; I’m almost half your weight. I bet I’m no heavier than your chainmail, at any rate, so it’s beneficial for both of us, really.”

Merlin realised that he was rambling before he got too carried away, and bit hard on the inside of his cheek. However, all things considered, he felt he deserved some praise for being so quick-thinking under the circumstances; there was no way Arthur could refute his logic.

Arthur only gave a grunt in response, and remained silent for the next few minutes. Merlin took his time with Arthur’s biceps, enjoying the feel of the muscle rolling under his palms. When he was satisfied that Arthur was relaxed enough for some stretches, Merlin leaned forward and gently took Arthur’s hand. Arthur let him manoeuver it until it was twisted behind his back, then Merlin proceeded to lift Arthur’s elbow as far up as he could, just like he had seen Gaius do with his own patients. There were a series of cracking sounds coming from Arthur’s shoulder, which were quickly followed by another groan from him. Merlin quickly repeated the gesture with Arthur’s other arm, and the cracking sound this time was so loud it made him wince. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be gaining immense satisfaction from it, if the noises he made were anything to go by.

“You’re definitely good at this, Merlin, no two ways about – _ohchristthatsgood,_ ” Arthur said, as Merlin began to massage the oil into his back again.

Feeling a rush of accomplishment from the thought that maybe he _did_ know what he was doing after all, Merlin made a mental note to thank Gaius the next time he saw him. He shifted until his knees were on either side of Arthur’s waist and leaned forward, gently guiding Arthur’s arms until they were folded together, palms facing up, on the small of his back. “I’m helping you stretch your back now. Just relax,” he said, as he slipped his hands underneath Arthur’s folded arms and slid them up to his shoulders. Pushing down with his hands between Arthur’s shoulder blades, he slowly closed the gap between his own arms, lifting Arthur’s as far back as he could manage. This meant that Merlin’s front was pressed to Arthur’s back, and Merlin hastily looked down, but was pleased to find that his erection had flagged. Perhaps it was due to the concentration on his task that his mind had diverted its attention.

Merlin gave a laugh that was really more of a breathy exhale as Arthur made another pleased noise. “Come on, you prat, pass me the oil, I’m running out.”

Arthur hummed to show that he hard heard; then, without warning, Arthur shifted underneath him, and the sudden movement made Merlin inhale sharply in alarm as he instinctively grasped the sheets for leverage. “Arthur!”

“S’ry,” Arthur mumbled into the sheets. “Jus’ stretching. F’rgot you were sitting on me. You’re righ’, you b’rely weigh anythin’.” Merlin noted with amusement that Arthur sounded faintly like a village boy from the way he slurred his words when he was sleepy.

Arthur reached for the bottle as Merlin reverted to massaging the sides of Arthur’s torso. Merlin watched him fumble around, before Arthur sighed and lifted his head. Almost immediately, the muscles beneath Merlin’s hands tensed up, and Arthur went rigid.

“Arthur, relax,” Merlin soothed, but when Arthur didn’t comply, he lifted his hands off Arthur’s back completely. Had he touched another sensitive area? Perhaps he had a few more knots to sort out, or maybe it was something else entirely. “Arthur, what is it?”

Arthur didn’t reply, so Merlin followed his gaze. Arthur was staring at the uncorked bottle of oil on the bedside table, mouth agape. Merlin would have thought that Arthur looked funny, if not for the expression on his face that clearly told him that something was wrong. It wasn’t usual for Arthur to be struck dumb; Arthur somehow managed to remain eloquent even in the direst situations. Merlin stilled, waiting for Arthur to speak.

At long last, Arthur pointed at the bottle and choked out, “That’s – that’s n-not what I use for massages.”

“What?” Merlin didn’t understand. The contents of the bottle looked, felt and smelled like oil to him. Had he used some sort of strange concoction that was not intended for external use by mistake? His eyes roamed over Arthur’s back for any hints of an allergic reaction, but he found no rashes or welts.

Arthur’s face had turned a deep beet-red, and as Merlin watched, the blush spread down to his neck and down to the top half of his torso. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” Arthur said from between gritted teeth.

“I think so,” said Merlin, still very confused. He couldn’t see what was wrong. Arthur’s body wasn’t reacting badly to the oil, and as far as he could tell (which was pretty far), it didn’t look or feel like a potion created from sorcery, either.

He watched as Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“That oil is what I use to…to touch myself.”

It didn’t take long for Merlin to put two and two together. His eyes widened, and his mind flooded with a litany of profanities that would have done Will proud. His hands were still sticky with the oil, and he frantically rubbed them on the thighs of his breeches in an effort to get it off. He chanced a look at Arthur, and noticed how the light from the fireplace flickered in such a way that it cast a glow across Arthur’s back, making the oil that was already soaking into his back look glossy and shiny. Merlin’s face went hot with the knowledge that the oil glistening on Arthur’s muscles hadn’t been meant for that purpose, with the knowledge that Arthur had used the bottle to slick up his cock, perhaps even to slick up his _arse…_

Merlin looked up to find Arthur’s eyes burning into his own; at some point he had twisted himself round to look straight at him. A sheen of sweat was forming across Arthur’s brow, and Arthur was breathing heavily as their gazes locked. Merlin was suddenly reminded of the position they were in – Arthur on his front, Merlin straddling him, knees clenched tight around either side Arthur’s waist. If anyone were to walk in on them right now, they would think that they were about to…to…

But wasn’t that something he wanted to do in the first place?

Almost as if he were in a trance, Merlin slowly reached down to the cloth separating them, and pulled it down to reveal Arthur’s arse. With his heart in his throat, he stretched out a hand and slowly brought it down. He could feel the heat emanating from Arthur’s skin even before his hand made contact with the skin, and when it did, he caressed it slowly, hardly daring to breathe.

Merlin looked up to see Arthur watching him. Merlin licked his lips reflexively, and when his finger grazed between Arthur’s cheeks, Arthur’s eyes darkened and his mouth parted in a sigh.

Merlin could hardly believe that he was actually going to take this further, that Arthur was actually letting him do this. Throwing caution to the wind, he brushed his index finger across Arthur’s hole, teasing the edge of it without touching the centre. Arthur gasped and bucked into Merlin’s hand, breath stuttering at the intimacy of his touch. Merlin let out a breathy laugh at Arthur’s surprising eagerness, and thought that maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. He had a sudden, sneaky feeling that it had been Arthur’s intention to get them into this situation in the first place.

He swallowed. “Arthur,” he asked, tentative, “would you like me to massage your…massage you _there_ as well?”

Arthur very visibly tensed at this, and Merlin froze.

After a few seconds, though, Merlin realised that Arthur’s expression did not show hatred or disgust at the notion. There was curiosity in his gaze, vulnerability, even, from the way he stared at Merlin’s arm, down to the point where his finger was just touching his hole.

One thing was certain: Arthur wanted him. Merlin felt a rush of warmth in his chest with the knowledge that Arthur actually trusted him with something like this, wanted to lay himself before Merlin and allow him to give pleasure. Yes, Arthur most definitely wanted him, but he didn’t know what to ask for, or how to ask for it.

The words came without him meaning to. “I’ll take care of you,” Merlin whispered, and it was as if he had uttered an incantation for a spell; something melted in Arthur’s gaze, the fear in them turning to relief, to affection, to trust.

Slowly, Merlin moved his other hand to Arthur’s hip and touched it gently, feeling the warm skin beneath his hand. Arthur moaned, and Merlin felt a thrill rushing through him at the sound, feeling himself hardening again. He started to remove his finger from Arthur’s arse so he could grab his hand and reassure him that there was nothing to worry about, but almost as soon as he withdrew his hand, Arthur grabbed his wrist with lightning speed, pushing it back down between his cheeks. “Just do it,” he groaned, and arched his back to emphasise his point.

“Alright,” said Merlin, feeling his breath pick up. He reached for the bottle again and poured a generous amount into his hand once more, but this time he slathered the oil on the crack of Arthur’s buttocks, letting his fingers occasionally graze the furl. Arthur had by this point rested his head on its side so he could watch, mouth open and eyes wide. Merlin looked up and locked gazes with him as his finger slowly breached the hole. Arthur immediately tensed at the touch, and Merlin sucked in a breath at the clear view of Arthur’s hole constricting around the first digit of his index finger. He had never seen anything hotter in his entire life, and had a feeling that it was going to escalate from here onwards.

“Try to relax. I’ll make this good for you,” he reassured him, and without knowing why he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “Come on.”

“It’s difficult,” breathed Arthur, and Merlin could feel the muscles fluttering around his fingers as they tried to loosen up. “Merlin, I – I’ve never – ”

“Shh, don’t talk,” said Merlin. “Feel.” He tried pressing his finger inwards again, and then all of a sudden, it was sliding in with little resistance. Suppressing his grin of triumph, Merlin began to move it slowly in and out, trying to reach deeper every time. At some point he added a second finger, and Arthur didn’t even seem to notice. Merlin had his tongue in his cheek as he concentrated on finding that one spot he’d read about in Gaius’ anatomy books; if he could only reach deeper and crook his finger _just so_ –

He knew he’d found it when Arthur convulsed slightly and his eyes, almost black from arousal, rolled back in his head. Arthur swore, loudly. “Do that again,” he moaned.

Merlin not only did it again, he did it a third time, then a fourth, and soon he had resorted to massaging Arthur’s prostate multiple times, only stopping when Arthur thrashed at the touch, and starting again once the spasms had subsided. Merlin had never felt more aroused. Arthur was irresistible.

Without stopping to think, Merlin just leaned in and tilted his head to give Arthur a full, open-mouthed kiss. It was only after he had done so that he realised what he was doing, but instead of pulling away, Arthur’s mouth opened to him like a flower in bloom, and Merlin released a shuddering breath into it as his tongue surged forth, interlocking with Arthur’s in a sort of wild dance. The clench of Arthur’s arse around Merlin’s fingers reminded him to start moving them again, so move them he did, until Arthur’s gasps turned high and frantic, his hips bucking back into his fingers. Merlin’s mouth slid to Arthur’s nape, laving at the beginning of Arthur’s spine and making his way down, letting his tongue glide over the rises and falls of the backbones. Down he went, until he reached the spot where his fingers were. Arthur whimpered in protest when Merlin removed his fingers from his hole, but gave a shout when lips closed around it instead and sucked, hard. _“Merlin!”_

Merlin did not reply, but teased the edge of Arthur’s furl with his tongue before pushing inwards. The oil was slippery and did not have the greatest taste, but Merlin did not care; he only wanted to show Arthur just how competent he could be at some things, and render him completely wordless with pleasure. With some difficulty, he snaked the hand he’d just used to open Arthur up beneath his thighs until he found Arthur’s cock and grasped it, stroking firmly.

Arthur’s cock was a masterpiece. It was thick and solid, and Merlin unconsciously licked his lips as he felt it leaking precome into his hand. He began to fist Arthur’s cock in tandem with the strokes of his tongue, sometimes alternating between them, until it seemed Arthur didn’t know whether to snap his hips forward into Merlin’s hand, or back into Merlin’s warm, wet tongue. At some point Arthur just gave up and lay there, letting the filthiest noises spill unrestrained from his lips while Merlin stroked and licked him. 

Merlin was not prepared when Arthur came without warning. It seemed that he had been on edge for a long time, and Merlin found his hand abruptly covered in thick ropes of spend as Arthur groaned his release; Merlin wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that his name was among the jumble of words Arthur had moaned in ecstasy.

Merlin was breathing hard by the time Arthur finished, lifting himself off Arthur so he could sit on his heels and stare at Arthur’s glistening, sweat-slick body as he sank, completely sated, into the bed, unable to wrap his head around what had just happened. Perhaps this was what shock was like. Some of Arthur’s come had made its way onto the sheets (Merlin made a mental note to clean them later, or, if the stain soaked into the sheets, to magic it away), and much of the oil had also managed to get on the bed.

What was he supposed to do now? Did Arthur expect him to stay or leave? He had completed the task Arthur had asked of him, after all, so in any other situation he should be making his way back to his chambers. Except that this wasn’t any other situation; Merlin had not only breached the master-and-servant relationship he had with Arthur, but the friendship as well; what they had just done together was far from platonic. And anyway, maybe Arthur didn’t even want Merlin specifically. Perhaps he just wanted a release.

Once he couldn’t feel his heart leaping out of his chest every time it beat, Merlin stretched out his legs from where he had been sitting on them, and swung them over the edge of the bed. There was the small matter in that his erection had not yet flagged completely, but at this time of the evening it was unlikely that he would pass anyone, let alone have someone look down and notice the state of his breeches.

His thoughts were cut short when he felt a hand encircling his wrist and tugging him back.

“I didn’t say you were allowed to leave.”

Merlin turned, surprised, and found Arthur looking sleepily up at him.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” Arthur said. “I’ll take care of you later.” He nodded towards Merlin’s (now only slightly) tented breeches, then yawned and rolled over, as if expecting Merlin to get in beside him.

“But sire – ”

“Shut up, Merlin. Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“You know I do, but – ”

“And I want you to. So get in.”

Merlin began to walk back towards the bed, but Arthur stopped him again with a hand. “Don’t tell me you sleep with that god-awful neckerchief on, Merlin. You can take your clothes off.”

“I like my neckerchief,” said Merlin in protest, but untied it at the nape anyway, then removed the rest of his clothing until he was just in his smallclothes. He lifted a corner of the sheets and snuggled underneath them.

The bed was big enough for the two of them to spend the night on opposite sides of the bed without having to touch each other, even with their arms and legs spread out like stars, but Arthur insisted on having Merlin as close as possible, his reasoning being that it was a much easier way of getting warm. “It’s early spring, and my sheets are cold,” he told Merlin as he wrapped his arms around him and hooked a leg over his. Cuddling with Arthur was a lot more comfortable that Merlin thought it would be; Arthur was arranged above him just enough for Merlin to feel his weight, but not enough to squash him completely.

“I must say,” said Arthur, after they had settled in properly, “I hadn’t expected such… _fortitude_ from you.”

“What do you mean?” asked Merlin, daring to nose into Arthur’s shoulder and receiving a pleased hum in response.

“You didn’t come, not once,” said Arthur. Then, “Was the experience not pleasurable enough for you?”

Merlin felt a blush rising to his cheeks, and fidgeted slightly in Arthur’s arms. “I’m used to holding it in when it comes to you,” he confessed. “I usually go back to my chambers to relieve myself, but…well, I’m here now.” He gestured awkwardly with his head, meaning to encompass the room.

A smile tugged at the corner of Arthur’s lip. “So, if I do this…” He slid his hand from Merlin’s shoulder blade down to between his legs, sneaking it into his smallclothes, and Merlin convulsed with a gasp at the unexpected sensation of Arthur’s hand wrapping around his cock. “Would it be unwelcome?”

“No, not at all,” said Merlin, struggling to maintain coherence as Arthur began to stroke, in an obvious attempt to coax him back into full erectness. “In fact – _ngh_ \- the complete opposite.”

“You’re talking far too much,” said Arthur, before moving himself right on top of him and kissing Merlin right into the mattress. Merlin lost himself in the sensation of Arthur lazily humping against his thigh as his cock swelled in his hand, feeling nothing but bliss.

He would worry about the come-stained sheets in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took a _disgustingly_ long time to finish. I started writing this at the end of August 2014, and wrote it in fits and starts because I a) kept putting it off due to homework and exams and b) could never find the time or place to sit down and write explicit stuff without being in danger of people looking over my shoulder. For a person who once managed to write 5k in an hour, I’m horrifically ashamed of myself.  
>  Anyway, hope you guys liked this ‘story’ (hah, let’s face it, this was 99% porn). Let me know what you think.


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